Beneath the window, several strings of dried persimmons, frosted and snow-dusted, hung from a clothesline, swaying slightly in the wind. Sun-dried and frozen stiff, they clinked against each other like the sound of ice cracking.
Xie Qi’s sudden boldness took Shen Miao by surprise.
In terms of age, even in this life as the eldest daughter of the Shen family, she was three years older than Ninth Brother (Xie Qi). Let alone in her past life.
In her past life, she had been the last single woman among her friends. As they married, had children, and filled their group chats with dramas like My Ridiculous Mother-in-Law, Two Years Without a Full Night’s Sleep After Giving Birth, and My Husband Who Might as Well Be Dead, she, as an observer, had sealed her heart against love entirely.
Having witnessed too much unhappiness, her heart had grown a thick, calloused layer. She had thought no one could ever pry it open—until Xie Qi, gentle as a spring breeze, slowly softened it.
The elegant handwriting on the canal boat, the rain at the Xie residence, the meal orders scribbled on Xue Tao paper, the shared breeze at the spring estate, the ten copper coins only they understood… Xie Qi said he felt lucky to have met her. Yet Shen Miao also believed every step she took now seemed blessed because of Xie Qi and his family.
Steeling herself, Shen Miao finally raised her eyes.
“Ninth Brother.”
Her breath formed a small puff of white in the cold air. The sweet aroma of porridge lingered between them. Hidden in her sleeves, her hands were damp with nervous sweat, but her gaze remained fixed on Xie Qi, as if searching for something in his eyes.
Then, she saw it—her own reflection, tiny yet vivid, flickering like two small flames in his pupils. And so, she smiled.
“Ninth Brother, thank you.” Shen Miao finally unclenched her hands, relaxing as she spoke from the heart. “In this world, when it comes to matters of marriage, it’s always about parental approval and matchmakers—anything less is considered disrespectful, shameless, or improper. I know this well. But perhaps I’m born rebellious, or maybe I’m just thick-skinned. If someone sent a matchmaker to convey their feelings and propose marriage, I’d likely refuse outright.”
Had Xie Qi sent a matchmaker today, Shen Miao would have found it offensive and never spoken to him again. Truthfully, she had been trying hard to adapt to this world’s customs, to live by its rules for survival.
Yet some things, no matter where she was, remained her “incurable stubbornness”—things she refused to change.
She had always been this way, stubborn as a mule. Whether big or small, anything concerning her required her consent. If she agreed, she’d do it; if not, she’d treat it as nothing more than wind passing or a dog barking.
No one could force her.
In this life, as the eldest daughter of the Shen family, she had no parents—only Uncle Shen and Aunt Ding. According to the marriage laws of this era, they held the power to decide her future. Had Xie Qi followed tradition, a matchmaker wouldn’t even need to visit Willow East Lane; they could simply go to the Shen Grain Shop in the outer city and settle her fate.
Fortunately, Uncle Shen and Aunt Ding hadn’t stooped to using marriage to control or spite her—otherwise, she’d have cut ties with them entirely.
That was why she was grateful for Xie Qi’s “impropriety” today. She much preferred it this way—sipping sweet porridge, admiring the winter snow, listening to his heartfelt words without the interference of matchmakers or betrothal gifts.
At least, in this moment, she felt like a person.
Xie Qi understood her meaning almost instantly. Shen Miao’s eyes, bright with curiosity over her bowl of sweet porridge, seemed to ask how someone raised in a strict, tradition-bound family like his could turn out this way.
His eyes softened with warmth as he smiled. “Let me tell you about myself, Shen Miao.”
Human sorrows and joys are rarely shared. Some of the misfortunes Xie Qi could now laugh about had once cut him like knives, leaving scars that never fully healed.
Words, too, could kill. Even as a child, he’d heard phrases like “ill-fated,” “likely to die young,” or “his horoscope is fraught with misfortune and calamity—he might even bring ruin to his parents.”
The younger the child, the crueler their words. Xie Qi had never been close to his cousins because they’d avoided him, whispering behind his back: That jinx reincarnated—don’t let Ninth Brother touch you, or you’ll be cursed for life!
The Xie Family had its own school. As a child, Xie Qi and his elder brother Xie Tao had studied there. But after just two years, Xie Tao had fought his way through the school to protect him, sparking endless complaints from Second Aunt, Third Aunt, and other relatives. Many of the conflicts between the main and branch families seemed to stem from him.
Yet his mother, like an unshakable mountain, had always shielded him. Some elders, claiming authority, had even urged her to drown him to spare the family: You’re still young, and you already have an eldest son. Why keep this ill-fated child who’ll never know happiness?
He’d been three years old—old enough to understand.
His mother had chased those elders out with a stick. One unfortunate uncle had tumbled down the steps and broken his leg.
The dispute escalated until the family convened at the ancestral hall, demanding his mother be punished. His father, usually meek, stood firm. Gripping the Xi Family’s heavy staff (though it took him two tries to lift it), he shielded his mother, who refused to kneel before the elders.
It was perhaps his father’s proudest moment. To the furious elders, he declared: If you insist on punishing Chunjun with baseless accusations, then strike our entire branch from the family register. We’ll leave. I’ll take Chunjun, Third Brother, and Ninth Brother back to Youzhou. We’ll even take her surname, Xi—I don’t care.
The elders were apoplectic. They sputtered, trembled, and nearly joined their ancestors ahead of schedule.
Years later, Xie Qi still smiled recounting it. “I don’t remember any of this—my elder brother told me. He said even my great-grandmother chimed in, asking Father very seriously: Ah Chong, can Mother go with you to Youzhou? Father replied: Of course. As the eldest son, it’s my duty to care for you. Then she turned to my mother: Chunjun, will your family have room for me? My mother burst out laughing despite the tension and quickly said: Plenty of room!”
Shen Miao nearly choked on her laughter. Who knew Xie Qi’s father had such a personality?
Back then, Xie Qi’s grandfather was still alive. He’d been mediating the dispute, only to suddenly realize—Wait, why am I about to lose my son, daughter-in-law, and grandsons? He hurriedly stepped in to settle things.
Xie Qi’s father was the eldest legitimate son of the Xie family’s main branch. If Xie Qi were to be expelled from the family registry, his uncle would become a sinner in the eyes of their ancestors. In the end, the matter was dropped, but to avoid further trouble, Xie Qi stopped attending the family school. His father took over his education, while his mother taught him martial arts.
As he grew older, he began accompanying his uncles from the Xi family on their travels to gain experience. His mother believed that rather than waiting passively for misfortune, it was better to confront it head-on. The more misfortune he encountered on his journeys, the more he needed to keep venturing out.
Hearing this, Shen Miao suddenly understood.
Why was Xie Qi so different from everyone else in this world? He was as radiant as the stars in the night sky, pure and beautiful. It was because he had parents who refused to conform to worldly conventions. He had been nurtured, little by little, in the depths of their boundless love.
"Your parents are truly wonderful," Shen Miao said, her admiration and fondness for Xie Qi’s mother growing even stronger. She suddenly turned to him and blinked. "But what you said earlier wasn’t quite right. All the luck in your life must have been spent choosing your parents in the heavens. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet me!"
Xie Qi’s face flushed red, and he fumbled for an explanation. Shen Miao burst into laughter. "I know, I know—I’m only teasing."
Then she felt a pang of regret. She really was a master at ruining the mood.
Of course, Shen Miao knew that Xie Qi hadn’t spoken about luck just to flatter her. In his short life of barely over a decade, he had endured many times more suffering and trials than most people.
Without such remarkable parents, he might not have survived the rigid and archaic traditions of their clan. But no matter how loving his parents were, they could only serve as his support. The path of life was one he had to walk himself.
The pain and resentment of "Why me?" and "Why am I always the unlucky one?" had taken root in his heart. No one, no matter how close, could bear it for him. He had lived through it all himself, which was why he had once found the world so dull.
The pain was real. The love was real. And so was he.
Shen Miao suddenly straightened her expression and looked at him solemnly. "Xie Qi, I’m older than you. My parents are gone, I was once married, and though I have some modest assets, I also have younger siblings to care for. Compared to you, there’s nothing about me that’s—"
"None of that has anything to do with you, Shen Miao," Xie Qi interrupted, shaking his head. His face and ears burned crimson, but his gaze remained unwavering. "Just having you here makes me happy. I don’t care what others think. To me, you’re perfect in every way. No matter what."
A direct hit. How troublesome.
Shen Miao, who had lived two lifetimes, felt her face grow hot under the intensity of his earnest gaze and words.
Because in Xie Qi’s expression was the stubborn sincerity unique to youth.
When he was betrothed to the Cui family, Xie Qi hadn’t yet understood romantic love. He was simply grateful that his aunt hadn’t scorned his ill-fated destiny and had agreed to marry Cui Yuanniang to him. He believed he ought to cherish her.
Later, when things changed with Cui Yuanniang, he didn’t blame her. No one was born solely to marry someone else. The words she had screamed in despair, drenched in blood, had stayed with him: "Why has no one ever asked what I want?"
According to the laws and customs of the time, a man had to first seek the approval of a woman’s parents and engage a matchmaker before expressing his feelings. Only then was it considered proper respect. Xie Qi had never questioned this before.
But he wasn’t marrying the woman’s parents, nor was he in love with the matchmaker. So why was it that when it came to love and marriage, almost no one bothered to ask the woman herself? Most couples didn’t even see each other’s faces until their wedding night.
How could a woman know if her husband was a good man if they’d never met before marriage? And how could a man claim incompatibility after the wedding and take a concubine, when he’d never even seen his bride’s face? It was unfair to everyone. The two people most affected by the marriage were the last to have any say in it, then expected to muddle through a lifetime together.
Didn’t anyone else find this tradition absurd?
So today, his confession wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment impulse. These thoughts had been lingering in his heart for a long time.
He adored Shen Miao. He adored her so much that no matter what she did—or didn’t do—he loved her all the same. He didn’t know how others felt, but every time he saw her, he couldn’t bear to part. Even though they had so much time ahead, even after the most ordinary farewells, he would ache with longing.
Just being near Shen Miao filled him with peace and joy.
The faint scent of fruit and food that clung to her sleeves was enough to make him feel warm and content.
Sometimes, he wondered if his body had already fallen in love with her before his heart could catch up—if his flesh and bones had recognized her long before his mind did.
His body was far more honest than his heart.
Shen Miao instinctively pressed the back of her hand to her burning cheeks, then quickly lowered it, as if that would hide anything. Her heart was a tangled mess, knotted beyond unraveling. Just as she was about to crumble under the weight of his gaze and flee, Xie Qi spoke again.
"You don’t have to worry, Shen Miao. I know you don’t want to be confined to the inner quarters."
He ducked his head shyly. "What my father once said to my mother… I don’t think it’s a bad idea either…"
Shen Miao blinked.
What had his father said? She wracked her memory, then her eyes widened—hadn’t Xie Qi’s father offered to take his mother’s surname, Xi?
So… Xie Qi… Xie Qi was saying…
"Mm." He gave a quiet nod.
Long before today, he had already imagined it countless times. He was willing to put Shen Miao first in everything. She could do as she pleased, go wherever she wished, and he would follow. Her word would be his law.
He didn’t crave high office or wealth. He had no grand ambitions to restore his family’s glory. All he wanted was to pass the imperial exams—preferably earn an official post, but if not, that was fine too. He would be content as a commoner, selling calligraphy or paintings, or perhaps opening a bookshop, as long as Shen Miao was there.
Three meals a day, the changing seasons, the bustling world—he would be the little shadow trailing faithfully behind her. That was enough.
Xie Qi kept his eyes downcast, his face flushed all the way to his neck. His outstretched fingers trembled with embarrassment, but he still slowly reached for Shen Miao’s sleeve. Gripping the edge of her robe, he steadied the wild pounding in his chest and made a vow for life:
"I’ll follow you, unhesitating, through every mountain and stream."
But there was no response from above. Apart from the frantic beating of his own heart, the only sound was the soft whisper of snowflakes scattering in the wind.
Xie Qi buried his face deeper, mustering the last of his courage to give Shen Miao’s sleeve a gentle tug.
After a pause, he added in a small, pleading voice:
"...Alright?"
With few customers on a snowy day, Tao finished clearing the last guest’s bowls and stacked them to carry back to the kitchen. Shen Miao had already come in to prepare dinner. Earlier that morning, she’d mentioned making "chicken pot," a dish Tao had never tried before. She was looking forward to it.
After all, Shen Miao’s new recipes were never anything less than delicious.
But perhaps it was the heat from the kitchen—Shen Miao’s face was flushed pink, even the tips of her ears tinged with color.
Tao set the bowl into the washbasin and instinctively glanced toward the courtyard. At that moment, the yard was quiet, save for Zhui Feng’s dog head poking out from under the heated floor, yawning wide.
"Did Xie Qi leave so early today?" Tao picked up a loofah sponge, sprinkled some soap pod powder, and began scrubbing the dishes.
"Mm." Behind her, Shen Miao’s response sounded slightly unnatural, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of a cleaver against the cutting board as she chopped vegetables.
Tao rinsed a bowl and set it aside, puzzled. "Why so early today? Usually, Xie Qi dawdles until after dark before heading home."
"Ahem." Shen Miao cleared her throat softly behind her, the chopping growing faster, as if flustered by something.
By the time Tao finished washing the dishes, Fu Xing came in with an armful of firewood. He set it down, brushing snowflakes off his sleeves, muttering about the cold.
"It’s freezing this year—the snow just won’t stop," Tao chimed in, drying her hands hastily. Shen Miao was a kind mistress, allowing them to use warm water for chores and even buying lard balm for her, Fu Xing, and Tang Er to prevent frostbite.
Tao often ran errands for Shen Miao, buying rice and vegetables. At the Taifeng Grain Shop, there was a laborer whose lips had turned blue from the cold, his hands cracked and raw, still hauling sacks of grain through the snow. Pitiful. She’d even lent him her lard balm twice.
"Madam Shen! That’s sugar!"
Fu Xing’s alarmed shout snapped Tao out of her thoughts. She spun around to look.
Shen Miao had been lost in thought, pouring sugar into the meat. Only Fu Xing’s cry snapped her back to reality, and she hurriedly tried to salvage it. Fortunately, the cold slowed the sugar’s dissolving, and she managed to scoop most of it out.
Neither Tao nor Fu Xing had ever seen Shen Miao make such a mistake—mixing up salt and sugar! Since coming to the Shen household, she’d never once slipped up in the kitchen.
Fu Xing simply asked, "Madam, are you alright?"
When Shen Miao stammered, "The stove fire’s too strong—it’s making me dizzy," he accepted it without question.
But Tao narrowed her eyes. Though young, she’d grown up in the pleasure quarters, well-versed in the ways of lovestruck men and women. Something was off—now that she looked closely, Shen Miao’s expression was all wrong. Very wrong.
"Fu Xing, you take over the prep work. I’ll go check on the children—they’ve been out too long, they might catch a chill." Shen Miao shoved the cleaver into Fu Xing’s hands and hurried out.
"Go ahead, Madam," Fu Xing replied amiably. "The ducks are all roasted. I’ll handle the rest."
Tao watched Shen Miao’s retreating figure, oddly flustered, and thoughtfully rubbed her chin.
Shen Miao was definitely acting strange.
How embarrassing. Shen Miao quickened her steps down the alley, patting her cheeks to snap herself out of it.
She was mortified.
She hadn’t mixed up salt and sugar since she was three. Today, she’d regressed—all because of Xie Qi.
Xie Qi had gone mad today! Since when did he say such bewildering things?
Now, just thinking of him brought back the memory of his warm eyes, the way he’d tugged at her sleeve.
His fingers had been red from the cold, making the rest of his hand seem even paler. Unlike other scholars, he didn’t grow out his nails—they were trimmed short, neat and clean, just like him.
Shen Miao had stared at his hand for too long.
Until she heard him say, "I won’t bid the green hills farewell—I’ll follow you wherever you go."
"—Alright?"
By then, she couldn’t hear anything else. The world had muffled, leaving only the pounding of her own heart, drumming so hard it ached.
She knew then—she was done for.
Her sleeve had been tugged, swaying back and forth, while her shoulder and arm stayed stiff, frozen in place.
In the end, she might have whispered a barely audible "Alright" before bolting into the kitchen, not daring to look back.
She didn’t even know when Xie Qi had left. Or if he’d heard her at all.
After fleeing to the kitchen, Shen Miao had busied herself with pointless tasks.
The chicken for the pot had already been chopped and cleaned by Tang Er before he left. Shen Miao sliced scallions, ginger, and garlic, then moved on to other ingredients. By the time she noticed the drained chicken, she’d somehow marinated it in sauce.
She was supposed to stir-fry it first. Instead, she’d absentmindedly added sugar.
Poor rooster—Tao had picked it out herself, a sturdy bird with long spurs.
Shen Miao berated herself all the way until a carriage, encased in windblown ice, appeared outside the city gates.
Cui Wan Niang wore a thick wolf-fur vest and men’s Hu-style clothing, her hair braided into a topknot under a sable hat. Her once frail, delicate face had filled out, roughened by frontier winds and darkened by the sun.
Even those closest to her might not recognize her now.
But she didn’t care. In fact, she preferred her new appearance.
Using Tang Wan’s travel permit, she entered the city smoothly. The carriage rolled slowly through the snow-covered streets of Bianjing. Cradling a bronze pumpkin hand-warmer, she lifted the curtain slightly, gazing at the snow and the city.
To her, it felt like a lifetime ago.
She’d braved the storm for two reasons: her noodle workshop, and a chance to secretly see her mother.
After all, "Cui Yuanniang" had already died of illness in a distant nunnery. The Cui family no longer had a daughter by that name. Her father needn’t fear her tarnishing their reputation, her sisters wouldn’t be burdened by her, and she herself no longer had to suffer for her past foolishness.
Now, she was Tang Wan, from an ordinary merchant family in Bozhou, who’d only visited Bianjing once in the summer. This identity had no ties to the Xie, Cui, or Xi families.
As for her noodle workshop, it had only succeeded because she’d bought the recipe from Shen’s Noodle Shop.
Cui Wan Niang was more than happy to be Tang Wan.
Her workshop in Youzhou was thriving now, profits snowballing daily. But she wasn’t satisfied—she wanted to open a second location. She also planned to discuss with her aunt and Shen Miao about introducing two new instant noodle flavors and giving the workshop a proper name, like the Fan Tower.
Calling it just "the noodle workshop" was too vague.
It happened that Youzhou was bitterly cold. Since last month, she had given the workers in her workshop a holiday, allowing them to stay there for the New Year. She even paid them double wages, provided new clothes, shoes, and hats, and distributed quilts and provisions. After that, she quickly set off for Bianjing with a few companions.
Fortunately, the canal had not yet frozen when she departed. Traveling by carriage and boat, she hurried along and finally arrived just before the New Year.
But she hadn’t expected to hit a snag the moment she returned to Bianjing—the Xie Family had moved back to Chenzhou! Letters and messages traveled too slowly, so she had no idea that the political landscape in Bianjing had already shifted dramatically. The Guo Family, once part of the imperial in-laws, had completely fallen from power, and the Xue Family was also gone. Thankfully, the Feng and Xie families had mostly remained intact...
Cui Wan Niang sat solemnly in the carriage, listening as her bodyguard, who carried a large blade on his back, bent down beside the carriage to relay the news he had gathered. For a moment, she felt lost. Her aunt and mother were both in Chenzhou, and she could still make it there if she hurried—but Chenzhou was full of people who knew her.
Never mind. She would go to Shen’s Noodle Shop first.
Cui Wan Niang made up her mind to meet with Shen Miao and exchange information. It would also be a good chance to hand over the account books from the past six months and tell her how much profit she had earned.
Though she had only met Shen Miao once—just a fleeting glimpse during a banquet at the Xie Family’s residence—Cui Wan Niang had silently thanked her every single day while stationed at the border.
Because of her noodles, she had gained a new life.
The wheels of Cui Wan Niang’s carriage crunched over the snow as it rolled forward, leaving deep tracks behind.
Snowflakes drifted quietly. Inside the Funing Palace of the imperial court, Xi Feijing sat watching the emperor and Yue Teng play a game of chess. The hall was warmed by burning ambergris incense, and the heated floors made the palace as cozy as spring. Still, he found himself growing drowsy—he had ridden a donkey all the way from Chenzhou to Bianjing to deliver one to his nephew.
It had nearly frozen him to death!
As they played, Zhao Boyun brought up the matter of the noodle workshop. "Whose recipe is it?" he asked. "I intend to establish workshops in other prefectures to supply military provisions."
Xi Feijing snapped awake. "Your Majesty doesn’t know? I heard it belongs to that Shen Miao." He paused, then turned to Yue Teng. "Ah, my memory fails me—General Yue, didn’t you also first taste the instant noodles at Shen’s shop?"
"Indeed," Yue Teng replied, placing a piece on the board.
"Shen Miao?" Zhao Boyun picked up a chess piece, looking surprised as he turned to Liang Qian. "Isn’t she the one who runs the duck shop? When did she switch to noodles?"
Liang Qian smiled patiently. "This servant forgot to inform Your Majesty—Shen’s has always been a noodle shop. They only started selling roasted ducks in the autumn."
"What an interesting connection." Zhao Boyun felt even more reassured. He set down his piece and chuckled. "Though I’ve never met Shen Miao, we’re practically old acquaintances! Liang Qian, later you shall personally go to discuss this with her. I’ve already sold her land at a discount—since she’s willing to sell her noodle recipe to others, why not offer it to me at a fair price as well? Then I can send people to set up workshops in Yanzhou, Mozhou, and other places. Wouldn’t that make everyone happy?"
Liang Qian bowed. "Understood. This servant will go at once."
Xi Feijing remained detached, smiling as he continued watching the emperor and Yue Teng play chess.
